The Paths We've Chosen
by GeorgeGlass
Summary: Hermione has been holding a secret inside for years. It's time for her to finally let it out. How can you tell someone how you really feel when you are dreadfully ashamed of those feelings? Post-Hogwarts, canon-epilogue compatible. One-shot.


**The Paths We've Chosen**

**I do not own Harry Potter or any characters contained therein.**

It was a curious state of affairs that Hermione should find herself reluctant to complete a task. After all, she had been accused on numerous occasions of being overly eager. Eager to learn, eager to please, eager to advance. The task before her, however, was one which she met with dread.

Hermione took a deep breath, endeavoring fruitlessly to calm her frantic nerves. The house was empty of its other occupants; she would have ample time to do what must be done. She settled herself languidly at her desk and reached for the closest quill. After choosing a roll of parchment, she smoothed it carefully and began to write.

_Dear Harry,_

Hermione gasped for air after drafting these two simple words. She stared at the letters on the parchment, unwilling to continue writing further. But she must.

_ There is something I must confess. Perhaps it will come as a bit of a shock to you. Perhaps it won't. In either event, after much deliberation, I have decided that you deserve the truth. _

_ I have agonized for far too long, punished myself far too often, and cried far too many tears. I have been at my bending point for so long that I believe I may finally be about to break. _

_ Harry, I have not always been entirely honest with you. Over the years, I have told you that I love you like a brother. Like a good friend. Like family. _

_ I'm afraid that the feelings I have toward you are less honorable than I have portrayed. Please do not misunderstand; I am in love with Ron, and our life together is more meaningful and important to me than anything I could have ever imagined. I know that you are in love with Ginny, and I care deeply for her feelings and her happiness._

_ Nevertheless, despite all of my efforts to stop these feelings I have for you, they continue, unceasing, unrelenting._

_ I think that what distresses me the most is that I am supposed to be such a clever girl. Best in our year at Hogwarts. Brightest in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Why, then, am I not clever enough to rid myself of these unwanted feelings? I want to be with Ron. Nothing will ever change that. And yet..._

_ Yet I find myself thinking of you throughout each and every day._

_I catch myself imagining that you are there beside me when I drift off to sleep. Sometimes, I wonder whether you would approve of a decision before I finalize it._

_ I promised myself years ago that I would never tell you of these feelings. It's too much to burden you with. It has the potential to destroy our friendship, my marriage, my friendship with Ginny, and your friendship with Ron. I could never expect you to understand, and so I swore an oath to myself that I would keep these feelings inside forever._

_ I cannot._

_ I cannot lie to you one more time. I cannot attend one more Weasley family Christmas and watch you and Ginny leave, pretending that I don't wish it was me leaving with you. I cannot meet you for lunch one more time and keep up the facade that I am glad we are friends. _

_ For so long, I believed that I could be happy being with Ron and being your friend. I could have the best of both worlds, I told myself. _

_It's destroying me, Harry._

_ I am in love with you both, and it is destroying me._

Hermione paused. What more was there to be said? She could elaborate on her feelings for thousands of pages, but what difference would it make? It wouldn't help Harry to better understand her predicament, and it wouldn't help change the situation.

_ I know that you do not return my feelings. At least, I don't think that you do. There are times when I wonder. Times when you come to me with your troubles instead of going to your wife. Times when you call me to discuss your worries and fears that your children are carrying too much burden by virtue of being your son. Times when we talk through the night in hushed voices so as not to wake our spouses. These are the times when I wonder if you feel the same spark between us._

_ In the end though, I know that it does not matter whether you feel it or not. What has become of our lives, the paths we have chosen... These are paths we must continue, and nothing can ever change between you and I._

_ Still, Harry. I need you to know. I need you to understand. I need... I need you._

Satisfied that there was nothing further to add, Hermione signed the parchment and carefully rolled it, tying a ribbon around it. She sat staring out the window for what felt like hours, though the clock contradicted her, insisting that it had been only minutes. After a time, she took one more deep breath, wiped a fat teardrop from her cheek, and pulled out her wand.

"Immolate," she whispered nearly inaudibly, pointing her wand at the parchment.

The flames engulfed it immediately, too quickly for her to even pour in a portion of her treacherous heart to be burnt away with it.

That evening at dinner, Ron seemed to sense that something was different about his wife. "All right, Hermonie?" he asked her, his eyes filled with concern.

She put on the same false expression she'd been wearing all these years, smiling broadly at her husband. "Of course I am, Ron. Why wouldn't I be?"


End file.
